Woman of Interest 2: Aiding and Abetting
by Lacadiva
Summary: Carter, wounded by a fleeing suspect, is sent home to rest and heal. Reese makes sure of it.


WOMAN OF INTEREST 2: Aiding and Abetting

By

Lacadiva

Disclaimer: All right belong to Jonathan Nolan, Kilter Films, Bad Robot, CBS, et al.

_Summary: Carter, wounded by a fleeing suspect, is sent home to rest and heal. Reese makes sure of it. _

=POI=

"It's not that serious!" Detective Carter declared. By her standards, it wasn't serious at all. Just a scratch, she kept insisting. Regardless, she was ordered by her superiors to stop protesting and let the EMTs do their job and treat her at the scene.

All she could think of was that the perp was getting away and the trail was growing colder by the minute. The man she had come to arrest – Kyle Wesley Perlmutter, white male, 31, a suspect in a rash of violent robberies plaguing local establishments – had managed to pop off three shots before absconding. One of those shots had found the Kevlar vest of the uniform Officer who accompanied her to make the arrest. He now sat at the back of ambulance trying to regain his composure while EMTs examine the nasty bruise forming and spreading below his ribcage. A second shot went wild and was being careful dug out of the brick wall of a pawn shop by a quick-working forensics team. The third shot had grazed Detective Carter's left upper arm, leaving a bloody, painful score. It had also left her anxious and in what she self-described as one helluva funky mood.

"Son of a gun ruined my favorite jacket," she mumbled while a young female EMT efficiently cut straight up the sleeve of said jacked as well as her blouse to remove them more easily from the affected area. She was genuinely surprised to see how much blood such a small would had created and she felt her head spin just a touch, enough to make her suck in a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn't meant to look away (_Coward! It's just a little blood_, she told herself), but look away she did.

That's when she saw him.

He was lurking in the growing crowd of onlookers, gawkers and rubberneckers. He was the calm in the midst of the storm. Taller than most of them. Stiller than all of them. Dressed in black but for a pristine white shirt opened at the neck. Reese's almost icy eyes were riveted unblinkingly on Carter, as if to send her a clear yet unspoken message:

_I'll take care of this for you, Detective. _

"Let me check your vitals…" the EMT said, bringing Carter's attention back to her throbbing, bloody arm.

"My vitals are fine!" the Detective scolded as the young medical professional attempted to check her pulse and blood pressure.

"Why don't you let me be the judge," the EMT gently chided, her rebuke tempered with a respectful smile that said she'd heard such protests against her before. "Better safe than sorry, right detective?"

"Whatever…"

Accepting the wisdom of the EMT (who, if only a few years younger, could probably have dated her son), Carter gave up her fight and let the paramedic do what she had come to do. Carter looked up to see if Reese was still there. Hoping he was…

He was gone.

_Just like that._

She searched the crowd, craning her neck to find him, but saw no trace of him. It was as if Reese had vanished, withdrawn into the shadows, faded into the bourgeoning darkness. The odd tug at her heart disturbed her.

"We're going to have to transport you, Detective."

"Why? The bullet barely –"

"It's just a precaution. The doctors will take good care of you and you'll be home in a couple hours, tops, I promise."

"Yeah? Who's going to take care of my investigation?"

"I'm on it," came a deeper voice, just behind Carter. She looked over her shoulder to find Fusco wandering close to her crime scene.

"Fusco…get over here."

He took his time, but ventured in her direction. "How's the arm? Are you okay?"

"Hurts like a toothache, and I've been better. Why aren't you looking for Perlmutter?"

"Because our mutual friend asked me to give you a message."

She was still, hoping her eyes or the sudden catch of breath or rigidity of posture hadn't given away anything other than a desire to know the message.

"And?"

"He said stop giving the EMTs a hard time and do what they say. Go to the hospital."

How did he know? He was nowhere in sight.

"They want to put me in an ambulance. I can drive."

"Don't be stupid. You just got shot."

"I got GRAZED."

"You got SHOT, Carter. You don't want the meat wagon, fine. I'll take you. Get in my car. C'mon, let's go."

"What about Perlmutter?

"We're on it. The whole city's on it. The guy shot two cops. He ain't getting away. Especially if our mutual friend has anything to say about it."

She knew Fusco was right.

"Fine."

Carter rose up from the crate on which she sat and felt more than just her arm begin to protest. Fusco moved to help her but her eyes conveyed her desire to do it on her own. So he let her, but walked closely beside Carter in case she should have need of assistance.

"You always so stubborn?" he asked as he opened the passenger side door for her.

"What do you think?" she shot back at him, rolling her eyes as she slid into the seat, ordering her disobedient body to relax into the soft dark leather. "Get in the car and drive."

=POI=

Modern day medicine was quite miraculous, Carter mused as she crossed the threshold into her apartment and reached for a light. The wound was down to a dull throb now, thanks to the ability of painkillers to do exactly what the name not so subtly suggested. She tossed her keys onto the cherry wood table by the door (and instantly regretted the extraneous movement), then made her way to the couch. She eased herself down against the firm cushions and exhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Another minute and she knew she would fall right to sleep. Two minutes and she'd probably wake up in the same spot to find it was dawn.

Carter was grateful that she had been able to get a hold of Taylor and have him stay with a friend. She'd wanted to tell him about her wound, but feared he would worry, knew he would have a hard time with it. So she elected to tell him later, after the weekend, after she'd rested and already begun to heal.

For now, she would enjoy the peace and quiet and…

Someone was at her door. Whoever it was hadn't knocked, hadn't even touched the door knob yet. She just…felt it. She looked at the door, going awkwardly for her gun. She saw a shadow shift just under the door.

There was definitely someone there.

She got up, forgetting about the discomfort of her wound and made her way to the door. She eased close to it to peer through the peep hole.

The fish-eyed lens showed the very stern and sometime unfriendly smirk of John Reese.

Carter dropped her guard, sat her gun on the cherry wood table and opened the door.

"Were you going to knock or what?"

"I was thinking about it."

"What do want?"

"To check on you."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah? Looks to me like you got shot."

"I got grazed. You in or out?"

Reese, carrying a heavy opaque plastic bag, stepped in and moved so that she could close the door behind him.

"Lock it," Reese insisted.

She did, but not without giving him a churlish glare.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked in a monotonous, preoccupied voice. It wasn't lost on Carter that Reese seemed to be very interested in her apartment, noticing windows, shadowed corners and other rooms at the end of the darkened hallway.

"I get to keep my arm. What's in the bag?"

Reese held it out to her.

"Get well present."

Carter hesitated, then took the bag from him and peeked inside.

"Moca almond fudge? Who told you I liked moca almond fudge ice cream?"

"Took a shot in the dark."

"Ha…very funny. Hilarious. You mind if I eat it tomorrow? I'm kind of tired…"

"Then you might want to put that in the freezer before it melts."

Heading for the kitchen, Carter, said, "I expected you'd be out trying to illegally apprehend my suspect."

"He was slippery."

"You mean he got a good head start on you…"

"If you say so…"

When Carter returned she found Reese checking the windows, closing blinds.

"What are you doing?"

"Redecorating."

"You think he's coming for me…"

John said nothing as he reached for the second set of blinds.

"You don't have to worry about me," she said, "I can take care of myself…"

Carter moved across the room quickly, a little too quickly; her head spun and she saw the dark wood floor rising up to meet her. Before she could smack her head on the shiny surface, strong arms reached out and captured her, held her securely. Reese guided her to the couch and helped her sit heavily. He remained by her side waiting for the blood to return to her brain, his strong hands continuing to grip her upper arms.

"I'm okay… You can let go now."

Reese hesitated, then let her go.

"It's just the painkillers. They make me kinda loopy."

"Maybe you should lie down."

"I said I'm fine. About Perlmutter…"

"What about him?"

Carter readjusted on the couch, feeling the brain fog thicken.

"Coming after me…that's not his M.O. …"

"Do you trust me, Carter?"

She stared at him for a beat. "You know I do. Only…"

"What?"

"Promise me I won't be reading a report later about Perlmutter's body floating face down in the Hudson."

"I'll do my best to dispose of him in a manner you approve of."

She let herself smile. "Why can't you just let the police do their job? We did actually manage to put a few bad guys behind bars before you and Finch showed up, you know. And despite tonight's little drama, I am more than capable of taking care of myself. So if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

Reese stood. "Good idea. Where do you keep the blankets?"

"Excuse me?"

"Blankets…"

"You can't stay here."

"I'm not leaving you."

"John…"

"Couch looks comfy. Is it?"

"You're not going to find out, because you're not spending the night here!"

Reese turned to her, his eyes burrowing into hers. "Listen to me, Joss. I'm not leaving. It was Finch's idea…" he lied.

"You always do whatever he says? He just snaps his fingers and you run…"

Reese said nothing. His eyes had turned somewhat icy. His smile/smirk had disappeared and his look hardened. He was unreadable.

"Hall closet," Carter said. Reese disappeared for a few beats and returned with two blankets.

"You're tall…the couch may be too short for you."

"I'm not sleep on the couch…you are."

Carter stared at him, perplexed.

"Lie down," he ordered her.

"I have a bed, you know."

"I can keep a better eye on you right here."

"This really isn't necessary…"

Reese simply waited her out, holding up a soft burgundy blanket. Eventually he won. The detective kicked off her shoes and lay down on the couch. Reese gently spread the blanket over her, tucking it around her feet.

"You gonna read me a bedtime story too?"

"Only if it will help you sleep," he said with a barely perceptible smile.

"What are you going to do while I'm playing sleeping beauty?"

Reese took a dinette chair and placed it by the window. He turned off the light, removed his gun from concealment, sat before the window, and placed his weapon in his lap to stand watch for the night.

"Good night, Carter."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and felt the combination of diminishing adrenaline, pure exhaustion and the heaviness of the painkiller lull her into a dreamless sleep.

Reese heard his ear phone chirp and engaged the call.

"Hello, Finch," he said quietly.

"Where are you? I've been trying to call you for over an hour!"

"I needed to take care of a few things."

"Would any of those things include Detective Carter?"

Reese didn't respond.

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine. Sleeping, finally."

"Good. I understand they found her shooter about thirty minutes ago floating in the Hudson…in an inner tube. You wouldn't happen to know how he got there, would you, Mr. Reese?"

"Harold, I'm offended…"

"Fortunately the fire department rescued Mr. Perlmutter before he could drown. He's at New York Presbyterian right now under heavy police guard, and will be safely behind bars by morning."

"Anything else, Harold?"

"Yes… Don't get too close."

Silence from John. His eyes dropped to Carter in peaceful slumber.

"I say this for your own good, John."

Silence again. Reese considered disengaging the call.

Joss turned a bit in her sleep, seeking to burrow deeper under the warm blanket.

"John…"

"I have a little experience with being shot. Some people have been known to relive the moment over and over in their heads. I didn't want her to be alone."

"You're a good man, Mr. Reese," Finch said, causing John to smirk derisively. Good men don't toss criminals into the Hudson in an inner tube and walk away….

"…but you can't save everybody."

"Good night, Harold."

"John…"

John disengaged the call. He watched Joss, hoping she hadn't heard his end of the conversation.

Thirty minutes passed slowly, and soon the heaviness of sleep begged John's eyes to close, his breath to become deep and even, his strong shoulders to relax and slump. He was lingering in an indefinable place, no light, but not quite dark…not empty but not quite full...There was the memory of pain, then a soothing hand reaching out to him.

"_Hold on to me…"_

John woke with a start when he realized a hand was on his shoulder. He instantly moved to defend himself but realized instantly there was no danger.

"Easy…it's just me," Carter said as she wrapped the second blanket around his shoulders. "It gets cold out here…" She was still slow and groggy from sleep.

"Thank you," said Reese, pulling the warm blanket closer around his shoulders, his hand brushing hers. Her limb felt unusually warm, which concerned him. He reached from under the blanket and put a hand on her forehead. She flinched at first, not understanding what he was doing, though he she had done this very thing to her own son many times. He let his hand slip down to cup her cheek, then touched her under her chin with the back of his hand. That John would do such a thing to felt unnatural, odd.

Close.

She shuttered subtly under his lingering touch.

"You're temperature isn't elevated…" he said.

"Which means, I'm fine."

"You were shot."

"I was grazed. I think it bothered you more than it bothered me."

"Go back to sleep."

"I'm right. Arent' I?"

"Go back to sleep, Joss."

She smiled, shook her head, the moved back to the couch and crawling under the blanket.

A beat of silence in the room. Then:

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"I really didn't want to be alone tonight." She felt embarrassed, speaking her thoughts out loud.

"Anytime."

Silence fell again. John waited until he could detect the steady rise and fall of Joss' deep breathing, then let himself be carried under again. His last conscious thought was hoping he would find her somewhere in his dreams.

End.

_Hope you liked it. If you did, were moved at all by it, I hope you'll kindly review. Thanks for reading it and I hope to round it off with a third _Woman of Interest_ story soon. Ciao._


End file.
